


Things to Talk About When You're Dead

by misura



Category: The Magnificent Seven (2016)
Genre: Joshua Faraday Lives, M/M, Post-Canon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-18
Updated: 2021-03-18
Packaged: 2021-03-27 02:34:07
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 674
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/30115833
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/misura/pseuds/misura
Summary: "You know, if I really were dead, this would be a pretty good place to get buried."
Relationships: Joshua Faraday/Vasquez
Kudos: 5
Collections: Froday Flash Fiction Fandom Battle





	Things to Talk About When You're Dead

The sun had risen, a great many men had been murdered, and Joshua Faraday had just finished taking a piss on his grave while a dead man watched.

Of course 'dead' was a relative term, as proven by Faraday's own circumstances. He hadn't quite had Vasquez's penchant for trouble - or rather: where Vasquez had been reckless, careless and (apparently) stupid enough to leave living witnesses behind, Faraday had been careful, smart and, if such a word existed, reck _ful_. (Goodnight probably would have known, but unlike the graves marked 'Joshua Faraday' and 'Vasquez' ("You're still not going to tell me your first name?" / "A man likes to keep a bit of mystery, guero") the grave marked 'Goodnight Robicheaux' did in fact have a body in it. Probably. As far as Faraday knew.)

"You know, if I really were dead, this would be a pretty good place to get buried."

Vasquez hadn't spoken since Faraday had taken out his cock. It had seemed a fair enough reaction at the time; Faraday was familiar with the platitudes of 'it's not about how big it is, it's about what you can do with it', but, well, some people had been blessed with both size and skill.

Not that he liked to brag or anything.

Vasquez said, "Eh."

"I mean, look at it." Faraday had pissed off the edge of a cliff once. When he'd come down, he'd half hoped to get faced by an angry (yet inept) gunman with a complaint about Faraday having ruined both his favorite hat and his day, but alas. "Great view, lots of space, not too crowded."

"A grave's a grave, guero," Vasquez said.

"To be fair, some graves are more grave than others," Faraday said. He felt there was a pun in there somewhere, only he couldn't quite wrap his mind around it. "This one, for example - " he gestured at his own " - is what I would personally call 'not a grave'. I mean, as long as a grave doesn't have an actual dead body in it, it's just another hole in the ground, right?"

"I think they put one of the Blackstones in there," Vasquez said. "For verisimilitude."

"Jesus wept. One, never use that word within my hearing again. Two, I am shocked. And half-minded to go and complain to someone."

Vasquez grinned. "Kind of hard to complain when you're a dead man, eh?"

"For this shit, I'd come back to life," Faraday said. "Or haunt someone. Teddy, maybe? I mean, I gave him my horse! I loved that horse! I've shot people for that horse - and, all right, I've also shot people for other reasons, lots of other reasons, in fact, some of them petty as shit, but still."

Vasquez sighed and shook his head. "World's full of places to get buried, guero. Pretty places, ugly places. Let it go, eh?"

"Let it go? _Let it go_? No, I will not _let it go_. What, I want to get buried here, I need to leave instructions that oh yeah, there's someone already here, but they can just, I don't know, move him to someplace else?"

Something tightened in Vasquez's expression. "You're not going to die for a good while yet, guero."

Faraday remembered the fight, the sensation of getting shot, that moment of terror-hurt-pain-shock when he'd realized he'd been hit, and that the blood he was looking at was his own, rather than someone else's.

For a couple of seconds there, he'd been scared shitless. He wondered if Vasquez knew. Probably.

"Fine," he said. "Fine. Never mind. Let's just go. Damn place gives me the creeps."

Vasquez smirked. "Maybe it's this Blackstone's ghost wanting vengeance for you pissing on his grave."

"Joke's on him; I don't believe in ghosts and all that shit. Now, seeing as how I've given away my horse, you want to give me a ride?"

Vasquez smirked some more. "Sure, guero. I'll be happy to give you a ride any time."

Faraday rolled his eyes even if, all right, maybe he'd walked right into that one.


End file.
